


dog walker wanted

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 90s LawRusso, Anti-Frat Boy, Comedy, Cute Dogs as an Aphrodisiac, First Kiss, First Meeting, Fluff, Getting Together, Grad Student Daniel, Handyman Johnny, M/M, college au sort of, dogwalker AU, lawrusso, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: When Daniel needs a part-time job, he's lucky enough to find a wanted poster for a dog walker. He didn't expect...quite so many dogs, but money is money, right?Johnny works on the university campus, dodging frat boys who keep ruining the sprinkler system. That is, until he sees a herd of dogs knock over some poor, scrawny dog walker.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 12
Kudos: 137





	dog walker wanted

In the summer between his senior year of undergrad and his first semester as a graduate student, Daniel LaRusso decided that he needed a part-time job. That wasn’t unusual, in itself. He’d had a myriad of part-time jobs while he was a college student – Mr. Miyagi would only allow him to work at Mr. Miyagi’s Little Trees on a part-time basis, and when that fell through, he helped Mr. Miyagi with different landscaping jobs on and off for a while. 

His other jobs were painfully cliché – research assistant, copy editor for the school newspaper, barista, sandwich artist at Subway…all different shades of painfully boring. 

But he wanted to be a business owner, and that meant at least an MBA. So here he was, scouring a bulletin board for a flyer that could work. Not that people used these too much over the summer. 

_Dog walker wanted_ , he read on an orange sheet of paper, the ink faded and almost illegible. He pulled one of the tabs off the bottom of the page and stuffed it into his jean pocket. He would call them when he got home. 

He forgot to do that – he spent an hour after he got home picking up around the yard with Mr. Miyagi, another hour after that doing kata, and then fell into the usual routine of shower, dinner, a cup of tea, talking with his mother on the phone. 

And then he grabbed his jeans off the floor, where he’d discarded them when he put on some shorts to work outside, and the little piece of paper slipped out of the pocket and onto the floor. He scooped it up, leaving it on his bedside table to call in the morning. It was too late to call right now, he reasoned. 

***

Johnny _hated_ college students. They reminded him of high school students who forgot to graduate – all jackets with huge, overblown logos on them and bright backpacks and hats worn backward. The ones he saw the most were the sorority girls and the frat guys. He figured he’d enjoy the sorority sisters more, except they were always looking down their noses at him, wrinkling their wrinkleless brows like they just couldn’t figure out what Johnny was doing there. 

To be fair, he was just the guy who fixed the sprinkler system on campus, and even that only happened every now and then. 

The frat guys were worse. From a distance, they probably thought Johnny was one of them – he was still tall, blond, tan, just like them. But then he’d get closer and they’d realize he was always a little sunburned, he was a little too muscular to be a college guy who went to the gym. He did real heavy lifting. He always had grease or dirt under his nails. 

Once frat guys realized you weren’t one of them, it was open season on you. Typical shit, Johnny reasoned, but if he got one more beer dumped on his head while he was trying to fix a sprinkler head some dickhead drove over with an ATV, he was going to snap. 

***

The old woman on the phone hired Daniel on the spot. She answered the phone by picking it up and breathing into it, which was alarming in itself, and then, when Daniel asked if anyone was there, she sniffed. 

“Of course someone is here, dear, that’s why the phone stopped ringing.” 

Daniel looked at the receiver like it could look back at him. “Oh, right, well, my name is Daniel and I’m calling about the dog walker position.” 

“Great, when can you come by?” 

He squinted. “For – for an interview?” he asked. “I’m free –”

“No, honey, when can you come by to walk the dogs,” the woman said, sounding a shade away from annoyed. “Dogs always need to be walked, you know.” 

“You don’t…want to interview me?” Daniel asked. It was harder to get a job as a sandwich maker. 

The woman laughed, a wheezy ha that Daniel couldn’t interpret. “Are you a dog person or a cat person?” she asked. 

“Um…” the correct answer was obviously a dog person. “I’m an animal person,” he said. 

“I’m going to pretend you said that you’re a dog person,” the woman said, “because no one else has answered the ad and I like your telephone voice.” 

“You _like_ my _telephone voice_?” 

“Here is the address.” 

Daniel wrote it down on a scrap piece of paper and read it over. “Do you want me to read it back to you?” he asked. 

“Come by tomorrow so I can make sure you fit in the belt, does noon work for you?” 

Daniel blinked. “Yeah, noon works – sorry, but what belt are you –?” 

And the line went dead.

***

The address was only a few blocks away from the university, a sprawling one-floor house that seemed opulent even if it wasn’t overstating its importance by being tall. He walked through the green, rusty gate, looking around at the front yard that doubled as a garden. The flowers were all well-tended, even if there were little holes throughout the yard where the dogs had obviously decided to have their own fun. There was a bird bath in the middle, with a finch in it, flicking water all over its feathers, shimmying to no music. 

He could hear high-pitched windchimes, and, when he looked down at the table by the front door, he saw a handmade ash tray with the burnt end of a joint in it. 

He stifled an amused snort and knocked. 

The woman he spoke to on the phone answered the door – it had to be her. She was in a wheelchair, grey-haired and obviously well into her seventies, but she had a challenging glint to her steely blue eyes that Daniel immediately recognized as a match to the voice he heard on the phone the day before. 

She had handwoven bracelets in stacks going up her arms, and a pukka shell necklace around her neck. Her shirt was tie-dye, with a South Padre Island Beach logo across the front (was that Texas? He wasn’t sure). She didn’t speak at first, just opened the door, eyed him, and then turned and went deeper into the house, glancing back once to make sure Daniel was following. 

He stepped inside and shut the front door behind him, and, as if on cue, he was being attacked by a herd of dogs. 

There was no other way to put it – in the mass of wriggling bodies, he could pinpoint a few breeds that he recognized – one of them was a Pitbull, another a Pomeranian, at least two weenie dogs, and a sheep dog with two different colored eyes. But there were a couple others that were clearly mutts, at least one with only three legs, and one that was blind, judging by the little hoop attached to his front. 

The old woman whistled and they all sat, still facing Daniel. 

“You’ll have to forgive the pack,” the woman said. “They’ve missed having someone who can take them for walks.” 

Daniel wondered how to say what he thought. “I’m sure there are ways you could take a couple of them for walks.” 

“I’m an agoraphobe, dear,” she said blandly, as if she were talking about the weather. “I don’t go beyond my yard.” 

“Oh,” Daniel said. “I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “No need for that. But these little babies deserve to go explore, which is why I asked my last dog walker to put that flyer up before they left.” 

“And when was that?” Daniel asked. 

“A week ago,” she said, and Daniel had to follow her down the hall into a larger room, where she rummaged in a box and tossed a length of material at Daniel with surprising accuracy. “Put that on.” 

“Put it on…” Daniel stared down at it, unable to make heads or tails of it. 

“Around your waist,” the woman said. “Like a belt.” 

Oh, the belt she’d mentioned. “Okay,” he said tentatively, wrapping it loosely around his waist. It was far too big. 

“Such a tiny waist,” she muttered, wheeling closer to tighten it for him. “I’m Paulina, by the way.” 

“Daniel,” he said again, as she yanked the belt tighter, moving his whole body with it. He lifted his arms to make the job easier. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Ehh,” she grumbled, tightening the belt again. “Why are you _so tiny_?” 

“Genetics,” he mumbled. “Ask my ma.” 

The woman snorted. “Do I need to? How old are you, kid?” 

“I’m twenty-two,” he protested, but it was a weak protest. This wasn’t the first time someone assumed he was far younger than he was. His mother claimed he’d enjoy that later in life. He wasn’t quite at the later yet. 

“Sure you are,” she said like she didn’t believe him. She leaned back, and Daniel looked down at the blue belt and the little clips hanging off of it. “There. Let’s see how you do with the dogs.” 

Her trial was just shoving Daniel out into the backyard with all of the dogs, who loved jumping up and leaving their little muddy footprints on him, their tails going a mile a minute, happy yelps coming out of their mouths. The only one who didn’t do that was the one with three legs, who kept herself to the back of the pack, watching him warily. 

He sat beside her when the other dogs finally lost interest and offered her his hand to sniff. She inspected it on all sides before pushing her little head into it for scratches. 

“Well, if Pogo likes you, then you’re all approved,” Paulina said from the porch. Daniel looked over his shoulder at her, still scratching behind Pogo’s ears. “She’s a little skittish.” 

“I like her,” he said honestly. 

“Alright, let’s hook you up,” Paulina said, but her voice was softer now, and when Daniel stood up, she hooked Pogo up first. 

***

Johnny saw a lot of weird things, living in LA. He saw people in Speedos roller skating, miles away from the beach and all reasons to wear a Speedo in public. He saw people in high heeled cowboy boots. He saw the university’s mascot walking around in costume when there wasn’t even a game scheduled. Things got weirder the closer he got to the university, as if being in college just attracted all the weirdos.

And then he saw the little dark haired guy with a literal pack of dogs, all attached to his hips, walking down the street. It wasn’t weird in a haunting way, like that goth girl who blew ashes in his face once and told him he would be haunted until his last day, but it was weird enough that an amused laugh snuck out of his mouth. 

He leaned back over the little sprinkler head, unscrewing it to inspect the Teflon tape on the inside. He’d fixed this problematic little shit before. 

“Hey, Kurt Russell,” one of the frat guys was standing over him now, hands on his hips, bright pink swim trunks on. Was there even a pool around here? “What the hell are you doing?” 

Johnny didn’t get the opportunity to answer; immediately, the guy looked up and away from him and started laughing. “What is that?” he asked no one in particular. One of his friends, on the porch, looked up. “Yo, Brent, watch this.” 

He took a Frisbee off the lawn and chucked it, the neon green disc flying just low enough to catch the dogs’ attention. Johnny watched, helpless, as the dogs broke into a run to follow it, all at once, taking their owner with them like a ragdoll. 

It wasn’t long before Leash Guy lost his balance and fell, landing on his knees on the pavement, the bigger dogs pulling him along before he managed to get back up again. 

Johnny groaned and got up, whistling at the dogs to get their attention. It only worked on a couple of them, but the larger ones stopped pulling, and the smaller ones didn’t have enough weight to be a bother. The frat guy, still laughing beside him, stopped at the sound. Johnny glared at him until he retreated, muttering something to his friend like _“buzz kill.”_

He approached the crowd of dogs tentatively so they wouldn’t take off again. Their owner had collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily, his knees pulled up to his chest. Both knees were bleeding. 

“Hey,” Johnny said. “You uh…you alright?” 

“ _Peachy_ ,” the guy said flatly. “Do you know that guy?”

“No,” Johnny answered shortly. “I just fix the sprinklers.” 

Up close, this guy was even smaller than he initially thought – wiry and tan but still, small. Johnny winced at the scrapes on his knees. As he let his guard down, the big one – a Pitbull, he thought absently – took the opportunity to jump on him, his huge paws punching him in the hip. 

“Cassius, come on, man,” the guy said in exasperation. “Sorry, he aims for the dick.” 

Johnny flushed, darker than his sunburn. “He – he didn’t –”

“Right,” the guy said like he didn’t really care. “Daniel LaRusso,” he said, offering his hand for Johnny to shake. It was quick, a squeeze and then gone.

“Johnny Lawrence,” he said. “Do you…look, get up, I have a first aid kit in my truck.” 

“I’m fine,” Daniel said, waving him off. He used his hands a lot, like…more than a normal person did. 

“I can see the dirt in the cuts, man, come on,” he held out his hand to help Daniel up, and this time, he took it. His hands were calloused, like he did real work with them. Johnny let his hand linger in Daniel’s, to make sure he was steady on his feet, he reasoned. 

“Go on, Pogo,” Daniel said, looking down at a three-legged dog, who looked in askance back at him before leading the pack forward. 

“Pogo? Cassius?” Johnny repeated. 

“And Captain, Peanut Butter, Virginia, Vita, and Kitten,” Daniel listed, pointing at the different dogs. “I didn’t pick them.” 

“Oh…your girlfriend did?” Johnny asked. 

“I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend,” Daniel hedged, a wry half-smile on his face. Johnny enjoyed it, this dry sense of humor and stubbornness that he knew, instinctively, was in integral part of Daniel as a person. 

The fact that he was slim and pretty wasn’t bad either. 

***

Johnny’s truck was an old pickup with a splotch of rust on the body above the driver’s side rear tire. He yanked open the squeaking door and pulled out a little white box, taking it around to the tailgate. Daniel followed, the dogs pulling him along like the tide of the ocean. Cassius was obsessed with Johnny, pushing his nose against his hip and thigh, his tail wagging. Johnny, to his credit, kept dropping his hand down to pet him, muttering matter-of-fact words out of the corner of his mouth like Cassius was a person rather than a dog. 

“Here come on,” he said, patting the tailgate. “Hop up.” 

“I don’t think I can,” Daniel said, pointing at the belt of leashes. Johnny rolled his eyes and lifted Daniel by the waist onto the tailgate, hands so large they practically wrapped completely around his waist. The dogs jolted a moment and then adjusted, crowding around Johnny’s feet now that Daniel’s were off the ground.

Johnny was closer to his height now, and Daniel could see, even clearer, how handsome he was. Shaggy blond hair, sunburn splashed across the bridge of his nose with just a dusting of freckles, blue eyes that seemed to have the supernatural ability to pin him in place. He swallowed thickly. 

“I’m just gonna clean them up a bit and then you can get back to being jerked in ten different directions,” Johnny said, looking down at Daniel’s scraped knees which, now that he mentioned them, throbbed painfully. 

“There’s only seven of them,” he murmured as he watched Johnny tear open a little alcohol pad. 

“Mhmm, whatever you say, LaRusso,” Johnny said, clearly concentrating. He put one of his hands around Daniel’s leg, pillowing the area behind his knee, and gently cleaned the asphalt from the skin. It stung, but the soft warmth of his hand almost eradicated the pain, and Daniel, instead of squirming away from him, looked down at him curiously. 

Johnny finished one knee and went to the next one, pausing in between to look up at Daniel, his blue eyes a clear ocean view, and Daniel felt the breath leave his body. 

“Still with me, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, a laugh lingering at the edge of the statement. 

“Y – yeah,” Daniel murmured. “Keep going.” 

***

Daniel didn’t really remember how their routine started. Everything about the day they met was a blur – he remembered the swimming depth of Johnny’s eyes and his hand on his knee, but nothing else, and then, in a blink, they were meeting every day, at the same place, and Johnny would walk with him while he walked Paulina’s dogs. 

It didn’t matter if he had a job to do, or if he was supposed to be across campus dealing with another issue, Johnny always had time to walk with Daniel. Cassius stayed by his side, panting up at him, and Daniel wished that he could trade places with the dog. The whole herd kept him at a considerable distance. 

And then they started showing up with drinks, or a snack. One day Johnny just passed over his Thermos, full of ice cold water, and the next day Daniel came with lemonade, and they just kept going. 

But the walks only went so long, and Daniel thought he caught Johnny looking after him a couple of times when he said he needed to get the dogs home. He wondered…but most of those thoughts were stopped by common sense. Johnny was too handsome to like him like that, too much like a walking Greek god, which, considering his eating habits, was seriously irritating. 

But Mr. Miyagi always told him that there was nothing wrong with asking for something you wanted. Surely this counted, right?

“Do you ever want to…” Daniel started, pausing when Pogo stopped to look back at him. “Not you, baby girl.” Johnny laughed beside him. He took a deep breath and soldiered on. “Do you ever want to hang out like…when I don’t have the dogs?” 

Johnny lost his pace for a moment, jogging to catch up. “You mean like…like a date?” 

It was Daniel’s turn to freeze, except the dogs tugged him along, so he only stumbled. “Uh, yeah, yeah, like a date.” 

“What about…” Johnny looked down at all of their dogs. “What about their mom?” 

Daniel laughed. “Yeah, you should meet Paulina,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me today when I take them home and then we can go grab a bite?” 

Johnny was looking at him curiously, a tilt to his head that reminded Daniel of the dogs. He wanted to reach out and touch, but even as he thought it, Cassius hopped up and poked Johnny in the side, yanking them all. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

***

Johnny didn’t think the house Daniel led him to looked like a place Daniel would live, at all. This place was a nice home that had somehow turned into the beginnings of a hoarder’s nest, or an animal freak’s sanctuary. Either way, he didn’t really think that fit Daniel. Perhaps it was his girlfriend (ex-girlfriend? Or else why ask Johnny out at all?) who lived here and he didn’t. He didn’t pretend to understand the complex intricacies of people’s romantic lives, especially college age people.

He’d been in a few awkward situations himself, and Daniel was so pretty he might be worth getting into another one. 

“Hey Pauli, I’m home,” Daniel called as they stepped into the entry. “Gird your loins, I’m letting everyone loose.” 

No one replied, but that didn’t seem to faze Daniel. He unclipped the dogs one at a time, starting with Pogo, who was clearly his favorite; and then Vita (the little blind dog); and then Peanut Butter and Kitten, the two weiner dogs,; then Virgina, the Pomeranian; and Cassius and Captain last. They all dispersed, going to little cushions and water bowls and toy piles. 

“I brought my friend by,” Daniel said, still using his loud voice. “He wants to meet you.” 

“I don’t have to –”

“The handsome one you said looks like Adonis?” a scratchy voice finally answered. Johnny looked over at Daniel, who had gone very red. “You finally snag that fish?” 

“He can _hear you_!” Daniel said, exasperated. 

Wheels squeaked against the floor. “That’s why I said it, boy,” the voice said, and Johnny caught sight of Pauli, an old woman in a wheelchair, her hair done up in two uneven buns at the top of her head. “Well _hello_ , handsome, Daniel wasn’t wrong, you are a looker, aren’tcha?” 

“Come on, Pauli, hands off,” Daniel laughed nervously. “Johnny, this is Paulina. I’m her dog walker. Paulina, this is Johnny Lawrence.” 

“The moving Greek statue with warm hands,” Paulina said, offering her hand for Johnny to shake. 

“I’m _begging you_ –”

“Keep going,” Johnny goaded, grinning over at Daniel. “That’s what he gets for not telling me that you weren’t his girlfriend.” 

“ _Please_ , pretty boy, I can do better than that slip of a thing,” Paulina wheezed, laughing behind her hand. “That’s all yours.” 

“Good,” Johnny said, turning his gaze to Daniel, who was covering his face with his hands, still adorable and pretty even now.

“Okay, okay, we’ve all met, can we please go?” Daniel asked, struggling with the clip on the belt around his waist. Johnny stepped up behind him and unbuckled it, hands lingering on the small of his back. He felt Daniel shiver and put his hands on either side of his waist, letting Daniel take the belt and toss it unceremoniously onto the table. It clanked loudly and the sound made Johnny let him go. 

Daniel turned and looked up at him with big eyes. Paulina whistled, and Daniel sighed, amused and irritated, and put his hands on Johnny’s back and pushed him toward the door. “Thank you, Pauli!” 

“Get it, Shrimpy!” 

“Don’t call me that!”

“You’re her _dog walker_ ,” Johnny said when they stepped outside, the screen door slamming shut behind them. “Why didn’t you say?” 

“I was a little distracted bleeding all over my legs,” Daniel pointed out. “And then you never mentioned her after that and I didn’t want to be…presumptuous.” He led Johnny out the gate, careful to shut it securely behind him. “Come on, I need food after that routine humiliation.” 

“I like her,” Johnny said, putting his hand on Daniel’s back again, relishing in the way Daniel pulled away before he settled into his hand, his body burning hot through his shirt.

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel agreed, looking back at him with eyes that knocked the wind out of Johnny’s lungs. “Burgers?” 

“Ugh, LaRusso, sometimes I think it’s scary how well you know me,” Johnny groaned, falling into step beside him. It was almost surreal, feeling Daniel’s shoulder brush his own, after weeks of being separated by fluffy obstacles. “Let’s go.” 

***

Daniel didn’t remember a date going better than this one. There was no awkward small talk, no weird silences, nothing. They just ate, Johnny snagging some of Daniel’s leftover fries, making fun of the way Daniel dipped his fries in mayo instead of ketchup, hands brushing. It was almost like this wasn’t their first date but they’d done this before, they just didn’t remember. 

And then the meal was over, and Daniel didn’t want it to end. 

He looked across the table at Johnny, who smiled at him, suddenly mischievous. “I have an idea,” Johnny said. 

“Always a bad sign,” Daniel pointed out. 

Johnny chuckled, tossing a stray pickle at him. “Do you remember the day we met?” 

“You mean the day I ate asphalt?” Daniel asked, reaching for Johnny’s hand to thread his fingers through. He relished in the way Johnny flushed pinker than his sunburn. “Of course.” 

“Remember why you ate asphalt?” 

“Frat Douche?” Daniel asked. They’d learned his name was Teddy, but that didn’t matter. “Yeah.” 

“I have some paint in my truck,” Johnny said, leaning forward, close enough that Daniel could lean in for a kiss, and he almost did. “And some water balloons, don’t ask why.” 

Daniel frowned. “Why?” 

“LaRusso –”

“Right, right, sorry,” Daniel said. “So…what did you have in mind?” 

He wanted to fill water balloons with paint and chuck them at Teddy’s truck and the frat house he lived in, and Daniel wasn’t really a prank person, but Johnny’s eyes were sparkling at him over the table and he really didn’t want the date to end, so even though he had no idea how to fill water balloons with paint, he said yes. 

And then he was standing on the porch of the frat house, Johnny hiding in the bushes with a laundry basket full of balloons. He was supposed to knock and then run, leaving Teddy or whoever else answered the door to get pelted with paint. 

Except when he raised his hand to knock, the door opened immediately and there was Teddy, looking down at him in confusion. 

“What’s up, tiny dude?’ he asked, stepping onto the porch in mismatched flip-flops. He smelled of beer and sunscreen.

“Johnny, _go_ ,” Daniel said, looking up at Teddy, who was even bigger up close. 

“Johnny? That’s not my –” and then a balloon hit him in the side of the head, exploding pale purple paint all over him and all over Daniel, who ducked out of the way, laughing. Johnny had risen from his hiding place and hit Teddy three more times before his friends came out and he abandoned his water balloons and the laundry basket for his escape. 

Except those frat boys could run, and before long, Johnny and Daniel were running through the campus, splitting up to divide the troops and meeting on the other side of the building. Johnny reached back and took Daniel’s hand while they ran, squeezing it as he laughed. 

They lost them around the intramural volleyball courts and then they were diving into his truck, splattered with their own ammunition, breathless and laughing. 

“I can’t believe –” Johnny heaved a breath, “you just sacrificed yourself like that.” 

“Worth it,” Daniel panted, leaning back in the seat. It didn’t take him too long to get his breath back, and then he was looking over at Johnny, paint splattered on his shirt and up to his neck, a splotch in his perfect hair, eyes closed, mouth open. He was stunning, youthful and flighty and still strong, stubble just barely visible on his chin. 

“Johnny,” he said, sliding across the bench seat to find Johnny’s hand, and then his mouth. 

Johnny just pulled him in, humming appreciatively against his mouth, his hand landing in Daniel’s hair, his other arm yanking Daniel onto his lap with little effort. Daniel yelped at the sudden movement, pulling away enough for Johnny to look up at him, the streetlight from outside illuminating the planes of his face. He brushed Johnny’s hair out of his face, feeling the cold paint against the back of his hand. 

He just chuckled before diving back in, his arm around Daniel’s back strong and solid and unforgiving, like he wanted Daniel to mold to him, and Daniel was more than happy to oblige. He opened his mouth to allow Johnny to push his tongue in, exploratory and teasing, and Daniel shifted on his lap so he was straddling him, smearing paint on their shirts every time they pushed and pulled themselves together.

He pulled back at the sound of voices, looking around the parking lot. 

“We should go,” he said breathlessly. “Those idiots are probably still looking for us.” 

“Your place or mine, LaRusso?” Johnny asked. The question sent a thrill through him. 

“ _Yours_.”


End file.
